A Father's Mistake
by morgana07
Summary: 1-shot spinoff from Fears & Dreams, Pre-series. John learns of something that happened to Sam as a teenager. What does he do when confronted with the person who hurt his son? Angsty!John, Full summary inside


**A Father's Mistake**

**Summary:** _This is a 1-shot that spun out of the latest in my 'Not My Sammy' Series, Fears & Dreams at the request of __SandyDee84. __This is a bit of history as it takes place two years after Sam left for Stanford. John is in Georgia on a hunt when he runs across an old friend. What does he do when he learns of something his 'friend' did to Sam? Will John's resentment keep him from acting or does the father inside him react?_

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own the boys or anything related to the world that Supernatural is. Any original characters belong to me._

**Warnings: **_Some violence. Will have mention of abuse.. _

**Ratings: **_T for language and violence._

**Pairings: **_No slash._

**Tags:**_Pre-series.._

**A/N:** A _review from SandyDee84 on Fears & Dreams started this little plot bunny circulating. I don't usually write John in a good light but I figure even he has to have some feelings once and a while._

**SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN**

**November 2003, Georgia:**

"No, it's a waste of time, gas, and money," John Winchester spoke into the cell phone he'd been badgered into agreeing to use. "Dean, I've checked all those out and there's no solid leads of a hunt going on in…" listening to the tone his eldest had just slipped into told John that his boy was now one step away from conning, conniving, and downright lying to get his way.

Tapping a pen on the cover of the worn leather journal he'd been writing in at a back table in a bar just outside of Macon, John struggled to curb his temper.

Normally Dean followed instructions without question. He snapped an order and his oldest son jumped to obey but the past few weeks…Dean hadn't been quite as agreeable. Hell, if John were honest with himself, his son's quiet dissent began the night Sam had stormed out…two years earlier.

Swallowing a long pull from his beer to cover the bitter taste that always seemed to enter his mouth when he thought of his youngest son, John finally had heard enough. Slapping the pen down hard enough that the sound was heard on the other end of the phone, he snapped. "Fine! Go hunt your mystery creature in California but try not to lose every damn cent in your wallet in a pool game this time, huh?" he urged, hearing the agreeing sounds from the other end before the line went dead and he closed his phone with a sigh.

"Trouble, sugar?" Emily, the pretty, 34-year-old waitress asked as she came over with another beer. Normally she didn't take an interest in the men who came in to drink but the middle aged man with just the start of a graying beard didn't strike her as the usual type who came in. She'd seen him always writing in his book, avoiding others but it was when she noticed him looking at worn photos that she took more interest. "Bad news at home?"

John could have laughed at that and he did chuckle since his twenty-four year old son could be more than a handful now that he didn't have his little brother to watch out for all the time. "No, just my oldest wanting more freedom than I like."

Seeing that he'd laid out a photo of two boys, young men, she corrected herself, on the table Emily couldn't help but glance at it before looking back at John. "This your oldest?" she asked, smiling as she tapped a painted nail on the photo and getting a disgruntled nod. "Well hell, sugar, just for the sake of any pretty girl within a two hundred mile radius I'd lock that one up…both of 'em really."

"Considered it more than once," John admitted, not saying that it had been his controlling nature that had helped to drive his youngest away from his family though he still blamed Sammy's own stubbornness for the rest. "Anyway, I didn't order another beer."

Blushing that she'd forgotten her reason for even going to his table, Emily shook her head before she pointed. "No, that fella over there said you were his friend so he bought you one."

"Who?" John's eyes had narrowed to scan the crowded bar when he finally spotted a man sitting alone at a table and recognition slowly came to him. "Lee?"

Making his way to the other table, John looked down at former friend. He hadn't seen Lee Stanton in almost six years and was amazed at the changes in the man.

John and Stanton had served in Vietnam together so they were roughly the same age, but while John had managed to stay in shape for the most part he noticed that the other man had let himself go. While he was still tall, a lot of his muscle had turned to flab, his hair had began to go as well.

"Lee, it's been a long time," he remarked, not surprised to see a few new scars on the man's arms and face as well since while Lee had been a good soldier in the Corps he had never picked up a Hunter's life easy. "You down here on business or something else?"

"I'm always on business, Johnny," Stanton laughed, a big booming laugh that told John that his friend had already been drunk or close to it before coming to this place. "Checking into a Chupacabra two States over, came in here and thought that was you over there. You always did like to doodle in that journal."

Suddenly relieved that Dean had decided not to travel to Georgia with him, John sat down in an empty seat but waved off the offered beer. "I just like to stay up to date," he replied, leaning forward. "Lee, if you're hunting you know better than to get drunk."

"I ain't drunk, John," the other man scoffed, tossing back another shot. "This is just how I wind down before I have some fun later on," he looked around as if searching for something. "Hey, where're your two boys? Don't normally see you without one or the other," he remarked easily. "They back at the motel or…"

John's sixth sense of danger that he'd picked up in the Marine Corp and that still worked well for detecting danger had begun to tingle in a way that made him wary. "It's been six years, Lee. Dean's mostly hunting on his own these days and Sam…well Sammy made other choices," he replied carefully, not liking it when anyone except those very close to the Winchesters took an interest in his boys.

"Hell, I never thought your oldest would let that little one outta his sight long enough for him to make a choice of his own," Stanton scoffed, tossing back another shot like it was water and wiping his mouth on a sleeve before looking at John. "I always meant to talk to you…about that, Johnny," he slurred. "I don't think it was good the way those two boys depended on one another like that. I mean, the fit your Sam threw that night, hell most boys want to go out and party when they turn sixteen not throw a hissy fit because their big brother didn't make it back in time." he snorted, then grinned. "I was happy when you let me take him out."

Rolling his eyes as he recalled that time, John ignored the little warning jabs in the back of his skull. It had been a simple hunt that he'd let Dean go with Caleb and Jim on and even he'd been expecting his son back in time for Sam's sixteenth birthday. Dean had promised to take his brother out bowling or something on that night but then the hunt had turned complicated and his son hadn't made it back. It was one of the few times that John recalled Sam being pissed at his brother to the point that he refused to talk to him on the phone.

John had been making an effort to give his moody son the room to express his displeasure but after a few hours of sulking, he'd had enough. He'd snapped at Sam which had set of a new wave of arguments between father and son until Lee had suggested he take Sam out for pizza as a way to distract him from his brother being away and so John didn't throttle the boy. Only it didn't go quite as smoothly as he recalled.

"Yeah, it got Sam out of the motel for a few hours but then it cost me three days tracking him when he took off that same night," he complained, tapping a finger on the table top but not missing the flash of something in the other man's eyes.

"My fault about that, Johnny," Stanton sighed, shifting slightly to eye the bar with interest. "I didn't adjust the drugs enough to keep the boy out all night. I was just as shocked to come to and find the little bastard gone," he muttered, standing up. "Hey, dig out a fifty for that little waitress while I go say 'hi' to someone, will ya?"

Heading toward the bar before John could reply, it took a couple moments for the man's last comments to sink in and when they did John felt a cold hand grip his heart. "Drugs?" he repeated, positive that he'd misunderstood Lee.

His friend had taken Sam out for Pizza and video games so why would he… "Oh, my God," he breathed, loosing all track of his concentration and whatever buzz he'd had from the beers he'd consumed was now gone.

Opening the wallet to find the mentioned bill, John also came across several wallet sized photos that turned his stomach.

In Vietnam, John recalled that one of the reasons Lee Stanton was almost cashiered right out of the Corps was his fondness for sex. He also recalled the man didn't care if it was male or female but he had a particular liking for anything between sixteen and twenty-four and…

"No," John whispered, looking to see the other man was engaged in a conversation with a couple college aged kids that would have been the ages of his own boys, he began to look through the wallet and prayed he wouldn't find… "Son of a bitch."

Memories of that night began to replay in John's mind and the more he remembered, the more he could kick himself.

Sammy hadn't wanted to go with Lee that night. Neither of his sons had cared for the man but John had put that off to Dean's own suspicious nature and Sam had automatically followed his brother's lead on anything back then so their not liking Lee hadn't come as a shock to their father.

What had come as a shock was that before he'd left, Dean had specifically told John that he did not want his brother alone with Stanton but John had shrugged that off when his friend had offered to take Sam out for his birthday.

John recalled being a little concerned when Sam didn't show back up to their motel room that night but recalling Dean's sixteenth birthday he'd figured maybe Sam did have some Winchester in him after all and so hadn't worried until Lee had arrived in the afternoon looking concerned.

No, concerned didn't cover it now that John was thinking about it. The man looked downright worried when he asked if Sam had made it back alright. Anger immediately surfaced that his son had taken off again, John hadn't taken the time to get a full answer out of the man to why Sam had run off. Lee had said that he'd taken Sam out drinking, the boy had drank too much and then had run off.

Knowing his youngest son's penchant for running, that didn't surprise John and so he had bought the story. In fact, he'd been so furious that even after a call from Jim Murphy assured him that Sam was safe with him, Caleb and Dean, it didn't stop John's anger at Sam. Only arriving at the motel where Jim had informed him his boys were at and coming face to face with his furious eldest did John recall backing off a little.

"Sammy," he whispered, clutching the worn wallet size photo in his fist. He remembered seeing the bruises on his son's face, the marks on his chest and legs that Dean couldn't or wouldn't explain and the way Jim glared at him. Sam would never say how he'd come by them or why he'd run but the one time John had mentioned Lee's name, the boy had gone white. Now, he knew why. Now he knew why his little boy, his sixteen-year-old naïve son who had nearly sprouted to his brother's height, had been terrified for weeks afterward and would only let Dean close to him.

Crumpling the photo of his son, taken after he'd been drugged senseless and clearly beaten and attacked by a man that John had not only called friend but had trusted with his son…

The thought of his son, either of his boys, being hurt in such a way made his stomach turn and a rage filled him that he hadn't felt in a very long time. There had been a point, right after the fire and Mary's death, that this rage had nearly consumed him. He had wanted revenge on the thing that took his wife, had left his sons without a mother. Slowly, that rage had lessened. Only to resurface when one of his boys were seriously threatened.

John wasn't a stupid man. He knew he had made serious mistakes with both Sam and Dean, especially Sammy, but the thought that his child had been touched by someone John had called friend and had clearly been too afraid to tell him made the anger come out.

Supernatural monsters he'd believed he could protect the boys from, but not once did he consider having to protect them from the monsters that walked on two legs.

Hearing Stanton making an offer of a drink to the two college age boys had John standing, stuffing the wallet into his jacket and making his way toward the bar while slowly removing something from inside it.

"Lee, come outside with me," he urged, gripping the man's arm firmly to remove it from where he'd placed it on the one boy's shoulder. "Now."

Stanton winced at the grip but put on a strained smile. "Johnny, you're ruining my introductions to my new pals," he whined, nearly yelping when strong fingers dug into his arm and he felt something hard shove against his back.

"You don't step outside with me and leave these boys alone I'm going to ruin something else when I put a goddamn round into your spine, you gutless bastard," John growled in a low voice that had never failed to terrify.

Not giving the man a chance to argue, John dragged him out of the bar. Once they'd cleared the door and was a good ways down toward his truck, he hauled back and punched his former friend in the jaw.

"John, what the hell's gotten into you?" Stanton demanded, falling back into the big black monster truck while clutching his jaw. "You still ain't squeamish about my tastes in companions are you?"

Seeing red all over again, John swung a another fist that caught the out of shape ex-Marine in the stomach. Pulling him back upright when he doubled over, he slammed him into the side of the truck before forcing his forearm against Stanton's windpipe.

"You can sleep with Miss Piggy for all I care about, Lee," he gritted, eyes dark with anger when he unclenched his other fist to show the wallet photo of his youngest. "I do, however, care about you lying to me. I care that you betrayed every friendship we had when you touched my boy!" he snarled.

Blinking the stars out of his eyes, Stanton was able to see the photo and slowly his alcohol buzzed brain began to understand what this was about and he actually began to worry. "John, you let me take the boy…"

"I let you take him for pizza and video games!" John shouted, applying more pressure to Stanton's throat when an unexpected jab to his kidney forced him to let go.

"Right and you didn't know what that codeword was for," Stanton sneered, rubbing his throat. "You forget that when I take anyone out for pizza and beer, I don't usually come back for the night? I figured you sent the boy with me to teach him a thing or two about being a man. I mean, Johnny, you were raising a wuss who was too dependent on that big brother of his unless there's something that you…"

John's next punch was a solid right to the face, hearing bones break and blood gush as Stanton's nose broke under the assault. Grabbing the man's jacket, he slammed him face first into the truck before bringing a knee up hard into his midsection. "Shut the hell up about my sons," he growled, temper soaring as he again saw his son, the last thing he and Mary had created, curled in his brother's arms the night John had arrived. He saw his boy cringe whenever a casual touch came close to him and finally he understood one of the phrases his son had thrown at him that last night before Sam left for college.

" 'I'd rather be out of here, away from you then to let it happen again,'"

He hadn't understood that then but now…now John realized that his son had tried to tell him more than once about Lee's assault and he'd been shrugged off or made to feel as if he were unimportant.

A grunt brought his attention back down to where his ex-friend was reaching for a knife in his boot when John's fist crashed into his head and his hand pulled the gun free from where he'd had it under his jacket.

"You had the guts to touch my son, to drug him, to hurt him and expect me to let you live the moment I ever found out about it?" he scoffed, cocking the pistol. "Are you that stupid?"

Spitting blood, Stanton struggled to get up but found a heavy boot pinning his chest to the ground. "Figured you…wouldn't care, Johnny," he wheezed. "Kinda wanted to see Sammy again so I was disappointed when he wasn't with Dean a couple months ago in Vegas but when he wasn't I steered clear cause that oldest of yours is a little too old for my…"

Using the butt of the pistol to slam into Stanton's head again, John went down to hit him again when a knife slashed by his arm and only his quick reflexes saved him from being cut.

"Asshole!" Stanton ground out, going to move when the knife was twisted in his arm and after a brief struggle he screamed when it went into his side.

"I had your back in 'Nam, Lee," John gritted, plunging the knife in deeper and ignoring the warm feel as the blood poured over his hand and wrist. "I swore we'd always have each other's backs but there are two things I will kill for…my sons," he vowed firmly. "You don't ever threaten or touch my boys and live."

He watched as his former friend's body spasmed while he life drained and until release his hold until he was sure the man was dead. Slumping back, John stared at the body and then at his clothes. "Shit," he sighed, hearing voices as people left the bar and realizing he'd just killed a man in a parking lot. "Damn it, I hope that fool's home," he muttered, managing to get the body into his truck and covered before anyone came around.

Waiting until the young couple had left the parking lot, John lifted the tarp to stare at the lifeless face of the man that he had made a father's worst mistake over. He'd trusted this man over his own boy. "No wonder Sammy would rather be at school," he sighed, not bothering to change right then since he was more interested in clearing out of the bar lot to get to Caleb who would be able to help him dispose of the body but first, as he sped onto the pavement he fought to dial his cell phone.

"Yeah?"

The telling tone warned John that Dean was clearly ready for any argument his father might have in regards to him going to California.

"Dean, I'm going to Caleb's for…something," he began, not intending to tell his eldest about this discovery since Dean would very likely kill the corpse again…not to mention John himself for putting his brother in that position to begin with.

"Have a ball, Dad," the sound of a cassette tape being changed could be heard and then Def Leppard blared before Dean spoke again. "I have a strong lead on…"

Rolling his eyes in a way that John had no idea was eerily similar to the way Sam would often roll his, John shook his head. "Dean, I know you're going to check up on your brother," he interrupted him, going on smoothly. "Just like I know you've been doing this for awhile and that instead of losing your money at poker or pool you've been sending it to Sam."

"Ooo-kay," Dean breathed out the word, waiting for the lecture and starting to defend his position. "The kid can't study, go to classes, and hold down a job to pay for stuff and…"

"Dean, shut up," John cut him off again, slowing down since the last thing he wanted was a speeding ticket. "That envelope of emergency cash I keep in the Impala's glovebox? The one I tell you never to touch unless you want me to break your hands?"

Coughing, Dean clearly knew the envelope in question. "What about it?" he asked casually.

"Add it to the money in your wallet that you're planning to slip your brother and stay out of trouble because Caleb's going to be busy," he growled, disconnecting before his son could give him the shocked smart-ass remark that John knew was building. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he whispered to the air, knowing that his youngest would never find out about this small gesture but at least John would know that despite the mistakes he's made he could at least make up for this one huge mistake he'd made.

**The End**

**A/N: **_I hope this turned out alright. It would be my first attempt at writing John as something actually nice which is out of my element but it felt right to give him a chance to clean up at least one mess. As always reviews are welcome. Thanks for reading!_


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